


A Little TLC

by pensively



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Rimming, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-17
Updated: 2014-11-17
Packaged: 2018-02-25 18:44:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2632334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pensively/pseuds/pensively
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spending the better part of eighteen hours on his feet in an operating theatre has left consultant surgeon Merlin Emrys exhausted, sore, and aching. Fortunately, Arthur has the remedy to cure <i>all</i> his ills...</p><p>Inspired by this <a href="http://kinkme-merlin.livejournal.com/35615.html?thread=38884639#t38884639">prompt</a> on <a href="http://kinkme-merlin.livejournal.com/"> Kink Me, Merlin</a> :</p><p>
  <i>Arthur/Merlin</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Schmoop, Fluff, Romance</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Merlin is extremely tired, tense and sore (Maybe from a big battle? Exerting himself using magic? Just a hard day?). Arthur decides to give him a slow, hot oil massage... One that ends with him fucking a very loose, warm and pliant Merlin into blissful, relaxed oblivion! :D</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little TLC

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [Camelittle](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Camelittle/pseuds/Camelittle) for beta'ing, brit-picking and being absolutely lovely to work with, and thank you to [RocknVaughn](http://archiveofourown.org/users/RocknVaughn/pseuds/RocknVaughn) for pre-reading, encouraging, and helping me with my last-minute pre-posting tweaks. :)
> 
> Everything I know about surgeons I learned from watching **Grey's Anatomy** , so there's that.

Merlin slips his shoes off in the hallway and pads silently through the dark flat, shedding his duffle coat and tossing it haphazardly onto the back of the sofa as he passes by. The time display on the Blu-ray player that occupies the shelf mounted beneath Arthur’s giant LCD television reads 2:03, and Merlin averts his eyes as if refusing to acknowledge the time will somehow make it less late (or early, depending on one’s perspective.)

He is exhausted; the combination of caffeine, adrenaline and sheer willpower that carried him through a marathon day at the hospital having finally worn off. Getting a donor heart for any patient is always a source of mixed emotions for Merlin; he knows that for one of his patients to receive the gift of life, someone else’s patient and their loved ones will suffer the loss of it. Young Freya had waited so long and been through so much that, although it was meant to be his night off, and despite the presence of a very qualified colleague on duty ready to take over, there had been no question that he would stay to perform the transplant himself. The fact that he had already spent a full day in back-to-back surgeries was not even a consideration. The bone-deep fatigue he feels now is tempered with the satisfaction that comes from deciding to do something and finding it to be its own reward. 

A faint spicy scent lingers in the air from the undoubtedly delicious anniversary dinner Arthur had prepared earlier that evening, and with a twinge of regret he walks past the dimly-lit kitchen without stopping. Arthur will scold him later for failing to eat anything, but all he can think about is curling up in bed with his sleep-warm husband and drifting off with his nose pressed against the nape of Arthur’s neck. 

His clothes land on the floor in an untidy heap. With a nearly inaudible sigh of relief and pleasure, Merlin slips under the duvet and presses against Arthur’s broad back. Arthurs body radiates heat like a furnace, and for perpetually-cold Merlin it only adds to the already lovely feeling of conforming his body’s shape to Arthur’s so closely that not so much as a sheet of paper would fit between them. 

Their legs are tangled together, and Arthur’s fingers twine instinctively with his when Merlin drapes an arm over his torso, brushing their hands together. The warmth combined with the rhythm of Arthur’s even breathing are pulling Merlin swiftly and inexorably toward sleep when he feels Arthur’s fingers tighten on his in a brief squeeze of welcome. 

“You’re late…” Arthur’s voice is husky with sleep and --despite his exhaustion-- Merlin feels a thread of desire pulse through his body.

“Surgeon,” Merlin replies, as if that one word explains everything. In cases like this, it generally does.

“Mmm, the downside to marrying a doctor, I suppose. You missed paella. I saved you some,” Arthur yawns, “but you know it’s not the same reheated.”

“It’s not,” Merlin agrees. “I’m sorry I missed dinner. Especially this one.”

“It was for a good reason,” Arthur says. He sounds more awake now, shifting his foot back and hooking his ankle around Merlin’s as if anchoring him in place.

Arthur must feel Merlin’s body tense, and because he’s been married to a surgeon for eight — no, nine — years now, he knows what spending the better part of eighteen hours on his feet in an operating theatre does to Merlin’s muscles. He moves his foot to release Merlin’s, but Merlin slides his foot back to retangle them with a tiny smile. It’s still worth any amount of discomfort to be close to Arthur like this.

“I’m fine, just a little sore.”

Arthur just hums in reply, and then rolls over to face Merlin. They rearrange their limbs with the ease of familiarity and long practice, and Merlin rests his forehead against Arthur’s briefly before kissing him softly. Arthur’s lips are dry and a little chapped. Sleep sourness aside, the sensation of his mouth moving against Merlin’s feels like home. For all that the kiss is relatively chaste, Merlin feels Arthur’s cock twitch against his own and a rueful sigh escapes his lips. It isn’t just his weariness that gives him pause…Arthur’s day starts early, and his alarm will sound in just a few short hours. 

Arthur is apparently unconcerned by this, because he deepens the kiss, thrusting his tongue between Merlin’s lips and shifting position so that Merlin is on his back with Arthur half on top of him. The heat of Arthur’s bare skin against his own is both pleasure and comfort. Their tongues twine in deep, drugging kisses that somehow simultaneously arouse and relax Merlin. Despite his exhaustion, Merlin feels a pulse of heat in his groin as his cock begins to harden against his thigh. Arthur is already erect, and the wet tip of his cock smears sticky pre-come on Merlin’s hip as Arthur moves over him. 

“Roll over,” Arthur murmurs. His voice is still sleep-husky, and the rough sound of it sends a thrill down Merlin’s spine. 

Wordlessly he complies, shifting to the right as he moves, so he can bury his face in Arthur’s pillow and breathe in his scent. His cock is trapped between his abdomen and the luxuriously soft sheets, and he rocks his hips slightly, rutting against the smooth damask. He feels a gentle slap on his arse, and then Arthur is draped over his back, speaking softly into his ear. 

“Just wait, _Merlin_.”

Arthur pulls away again; cool air washes over Merlin’s skin as the duvet is pushed aside. He shivers slightly, and Arthur runs a warm, soothing hand over his back. The heat kicks on as Merlin hears the sound of a bottle being uncapped and liquid sloshing, and then Arthur’s hand returns, this time coated in fragrant oil. Heated by Arthur’s skin, it smells of sandalwood, earthy and rich. Arthur splays his hands on Merlin’s shoulder blades and slides them slowly down his back, bracketing his spine with his thumbs and drawing them down in parallel lines of soothing warmth. Spreading his hands outward, Arthur moves them back up in a sweeping motion along Merlin’s sides with just enough pressure to avoid tickling him, then slides his hands back to their original position to repeat the process. He continues working Merlin’s back, his strong fingers finding and massaging every knot and tense muscle in small, circular motions. He gives Merlin’s left arse cheek a teasing squeeze, letting slick fingers dip into the cleft ever so slightly before drifting down to take the backs of Merlin’s thighs in a firm grip.

Inundated with the scent of the oil and Arthur’s heat, Merlin drowses. Arthur’s pillowcase is smooth against his cheek as he inhales deeply and exhales slowly, feeling the tension seeping out of him with every escaping breath and gentle press of Arthur’s fingers. Arthur’s hands are running down the backs of his legs in firm sweeping strokes, and Merlin imagines that the soreness is flowing out of his muscles with every touch.

Merlin blinks when he feels Arthur’s fingers kneading his biceps, and realises he must have drifted off to sleep. He drops in and out of a light doze as Arthur works his way down Merlin’s arms to his hands, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into Merlin’s palms. With one last slide of oil-slick hands along Merlin’s fingers, Arthur withdraws. The top drawer of the nightstand opens and closes, and then Arthur takes Merlin’s hand again. It is immediately clear that massage is no longer on Arthur’s mind when Merlin feels his index finger engulfed in Arthur’s hot mouth in an imitation of fellatio that starts Merlin’s cock twitching with renewed interest. Arthur releases Merlin’s finger with an audible pop, and presses his own against Merlin’s lips. 

The faintest residue remains on Arthur’s finger; flavourless, but subtly oily against Merlin’s tongue. He imagines that he can trace every whorl and delicate ridge, and he nips the fleshy pad softly before alternately sucking and licking it until Arthur pulls his hand away gently. Arthur traces the cleft of Merlin’s arse with his wet finger, sliding it between the cheeks in a slow tease before withdrawing it. Merlin’s breath hitches minutely, but Arthur doesn’t miss it -- never misses it -- and chuckles softly, leaning over to drop a kiss on Merlin’s shoulder before moving down the bed and rubbing his lightly stubbled jaw against the curve of Merlin’s arse. 

Merlin spares a moment to be glad that he didn’t let his exhaustion sway him from his customary end-of-shift shower, because Arthur’s mouth is moving slowly, teasingly against his bottom, licking and biting. He feels strong hands pulling his cheeks apart, and a ghost of warm breath over his hole before the tip of Arthur’s tongue traces the tight furl. 

A gasp escapes Merlin’s mouth, and his cock swells into hardness against the mattress once more. Arthur urges his legs apart and settles between them, licking Merlin’s hole and working his tongue inside past the tight ring of muscle. The sensation of Arthur alternately licking, sucking, and then tongue-fucking him feels incredible. He cannot help but squirm in Arthur’s firm grasp, emitting soft, breathy moans into the pillow. Saliva drips warm and wet down his perineum, slicking the sensitised skin. He shivers when Arthur pulls back to blow softly on it before plunging his tongue into Merlin’s hole once more. Little shocks of pleasure zip through his body as Arthur teases his rim with the tip of his finger in a promise of things to come. 

Arthur shifts again, and Merlin shivers at the loss of his heat. His hips twitch, rubbing his cock against the luxurious sheets in search of stimulation. It would be easy to work his hand between his body and the bed, to slick his fingers with the pre-come coating the flat of his belly and soaking into the sheets. He could grasp his needy cock, fisting it tightly with a little twist on the upstroke, just as he has so many times before. Merlin could take himself in hand, but there is something exquisite about waiting, about savouring the building tension in his limbs, the hot ache in his cock. 

Arthur’s lube-slicked finger presses against Merlin’s already loosened hole. He works his finger in and out carefully, stretching him thoroughly but oh-so-gently, and Merlin pushes through the familiar burn, already anticipating Arthur filling him. A second finger joins the first, and Arthur crooks them perfectly in that way he has that demonstrates just how well he knows Merlin’s body after all these years. Merlin feels them brush his prostate, sending an electric jolt through him and a pulse of hot pleasure through his cock.

Arthur withdraws his hand and lies down on his side, gently turning Merlin and tugging his back against Arthur’s chest. His breath is warm on Merlin’s ear when he speaks.

“All right?”

“Mmm, yes. Want you…”

The head of Arthur’s cock presses against his hole, breaching the tight ring of muscle and entering smoothly as he slowly pushes in. Years of making love have given them such a deep understanding of their bodies that Arthur seems able to read every twitch of Merlin’s muscles, hear even the smallest indrawn breath, and feel the exact moment at which Merlin is ready for Arthur to move within him. Merlin feels surrounded by Arthur, his chest against Merlin’s back, one arm draped over Merlin’s waist and his cock deep inside him. He is enveloped by the heat of Arthur’s skin, his musky scent, and the sound of his breaths interspersed with tiny grunts each time he sheathes his cock fully within Merlin’s body. 

The slow, deep thrusts are driving Merlin mad. He feels as though his cock has been hard for hours while Arthur has alternately soothed and inflamed his body, caring for him and arousing him without touching his cock at all. A low whine of frustration builds in his throat, and Arthur kisses him behind one ear with a low chuckle. 

“Impatient, darling? Cock feeling neglected?”

“You’re a sadist,” Merlin mutters. “An absolute sadist.”

I hardly think _this_ ,” and Arthur emphasises the word, somehow managing to encompass all that has passed between them since Merlin slipped into bed tonight, “qualifies as sadism, love.”

He lifts his palm to Merlin’s mouth, and Merlin licks it, wetting it thoroughly. Arthur hums his approval and wraps his hand around Merlin’s cock, stroking him in time with his slow, deep thrusts. Merlin’s world narrows to Arthur inside him and all around him, a slow burn of pleasure coiling in his belly. Arthur’s breathing hitches, and the stuttering of his hips tells Merlin his control is slipping. He places a hand over Arthur’s, speeding his movement, knowing that Arthur will understand his meaning. 

He does, releasing Merlin’s cock and gripping his hip tightly while he rocks into him hard and fast. Merlin wraps his own sloppily-licked fingers around the base of his cock, pulling up with rough, twisting strokes in time with Arthur’s hard thrusts.

“Are you close?” Arthur breathes out. “I...can’t...I need...I need…”

“Come, Arthur…” Merlin gasps. He is close, so close…

Behind him, Arthur’s body jerks. He feels Arthur’s hand clamp down on his hip as he grinds hard, pushing in as deeply as possible whilst spilling inside. Arthur is panting against the back of his neck as Merlin pulls on his cock, chasing completion. He’s dimly aware of Arthur pulling out, but he’s too far gone to feel any discomfort. A warm hand closes over Merlin’s, and at last his orgasm hits, coating their hands with come. Blissed out and languid, Merlin makes a half-hearted effort to move, intending to retrieve a wet cloth, but Arthur stops him and rests his forehead between Merlin’s shoulder blades, his breath blowing out in hot gusts against sweat-slicked skin. 

“I’ll go,” Arthur says, and he rolls away to slowly stagger into the ensuite. Merlin sags into the mattress, desperately trying to stay awake. Arthur returns with a damp flannel, and Merlin drowsily submits to his gentle ministrations. Without quite realizing how it happened, he finds himself back in the position they usually sleep in, with Merlin’s chest against Arthur’s back and his face pressed against the nape of Arthur’s neck.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve that, but remind me to make it up to you later,” Merlin says, mouthing lazily at the damp, salty skin beneath his lips.

“I’m sure you’ll think of something, _Merlin_.”

“I’ll have to,” Merlin says sleepily, “When I’m capable of thinking again. You could always pull a sickie; stay home today. Let me sleep a little and I’ll…” He yawns. “...Something. You’ll like it, I promise.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Arthur mutters. “Do you know how hard it’s going to be for me to leave for work knowing that you’re lying in our bed all loose and fucked out with my come leaking out of you?”

“That does sound like a problem,” Merlin says. He noses into Arthur’s soft hair, breathing in the scent of his shampoo, cologne and the tang of sweat. Arthur’s flank rises and falls slowly under Merlin’s arm, and he splays one hand on Arthur’s chest, feeling his heartbeat. Not for the first time, and he knows it won’t be the last -- he is thankful for this man. This stubborn, honourable, brilliant and occasionally terribly prattish man who saves his tenderness for Merlin alone. 

It is with this thought that he drifts off to sleep with a smile on his face, only to be rudely awakened by the screeching of Arthur’s alarm in what feels like mere seconds, although the thin grey light peeking around the heavy curtains would seem to indicate that it is actually time for Arthur to get up. 

They’ve reversed positions as they slept, and Merlin is lying on his other side with Arthur wrapped around him like a hot, heavy blanket, snoring into his ear. He shoves ineffectually at Arthur’s arm, which stops the snoring but does nothing for the alarm clock Merlin cannot reach. Grumbling, Merlin rolls over to the edge of the bed and smacks the offending device, his palm striking the snooze button purely by chance. His stomach rumbles, but he’s quite sure their bed has never felt quite so comfortable and appealing. Merlin rolls back into Arthur’s embrace and nuzzles his pillow once more, finding himself on the edge of sleep almost immediately.

The alarm blares again, and this time Arthur disentangles himself from Merlin with obvious reluctance, pausing to nuzzle behind his ear and leave a kiss there before rising from the bed. Merlin looks up at Arthur with bleary eyes, taking in his rumpled hair sticking up on one side, the hand that scratches absently at his taut abs and the half-hard cock beneath. It won’t take much to bring Arthur’s cock to fullness, and Merlin leans toward him with what he hopes is a suitably seductive expression.

“Sure you don’t want to stay for round two?”

Arthur leans down, gently pushing Merlin back onto the bed. “You know I do, but you need sleep. Are you going to the hospital today?”

Merlin buries his face in Arthur’s pillow again. “Have to check on a few patients, but that’s all.”

Arthur lowers himself further to kiss Merlin’s neck before speaking into his ear. 

“You can come and meet me for lunch, then.”

Merlin smirks in response. “You just want to fuck me over your desk.”

“I believe you promised to make it up to me,” Arthur says with a laugh. “But sleep first, love.” He pulls the duvet up to Merlin’s ears, just the way he likes, and disappears into the ensuite.

Merlin snuggles into the bed, spreading out like a starfish and listening to the soothing beat of water drumming against the shower wall. He is warm, comfortable, and sore in all the right ways. Later today, he will get up and do something productive: check on his patients, have “lunch” with Arthur...and then walk right past Uther’s office afterward, purposefully and conspicuously straightening his clothes while aiming a cheeky grin at his over-starched, uptight father-in-law. 

But for now, sleep beckons him, and he answers the call.


End file.
